


Cinderella, or One Party's Results

by imaginedandreal



Series: VM, Fairytaled [3]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 19:02:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17607122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginedandreal/pseuds/imaginedandreal
Summary: What a single, totally mundane party evening in Canton, Michigan in 2005, might have set in motion for Tessa and Scott's future.





	Cinderella, or One Party's Results

Scott was almost sure that Tessa agreed to come with him to the party for three reasons, and he had no idea which one he liked the least. One was that she wanted to appear cool, mature, and adventurous, two, that he spied a miniskirt and a not too-conservative top laid out on her room’s bed and spindly stilettos on the floor, and three, that she did an almost deliberately poor job of finding out from various people if _he_ was going to be there (for whom she wanted to seem mature and prance around flirtatiously).

Scott knew perfectly well who the _he_ was: he was tall, had an ever-present, unpleasantly cocky smirk, and had inherited all the negative traits of Marina Zueva’s personality. Right away, Scott kept the fact that Fedor indeed will be there a complete secret from Tessa, because he was baffled as to the reason why such a jerk attracted his partner. That was one flaw in the ideal that she was and Scott could hardly bear flaws in his brilliant ice dancing sidekick. So he had no clue how to right this wrong, and he knew that, if he advised her against going to the party, she’d sneak in just to spite him, then.

He didn’t like that Tessa wanted to make an impression on Fedor. He was an arrogant idiot, and he was _old._ Neither Tessa nor he noticed that Scott scowled and made fists whenever Fedor ogled his brilliant sidekick, his kiddo, like a hungry bulldog stares down a steak. Tessa in turn gazed at him like he was the love child of Prince Charming and an angel. Scott could also thank Fedor for making him hate the nickname ‘Scotty,’ where before he tolerated it, seeing as most of the Moirs called him it since childhood. When that nerve-grating Russian accent pronounced it in his direction, Scott felt to be even more a small, stupid boy than he usually did, thanks to that and his puberty’s snail-slow molding of his appearance into an adult.

He kind of hated Fedor, all things considered. And not even for his stupid swagger, or disdain of younger people, or ‘Scotty.’ It was because Tessa was stuck to him like a burr to a dog’s tail.

Tessa was oblivious. Tessa thought he was the best thing since ice rinks. Tessa believed that he was cute, funny, smart _(what?),_ a gentleman _(whaaat???),_ and all the other attributes that Scott wouldn’t ascribe to him even at gunpoint.

The worst thing about it? He couldn’t convince her that she was worth a million times better.

*

So Scott accompanies his brilliant sidekick to the party, after having almost choked to death on a sip of soda when she walked out to him in the top and skirt and high heels. He blurts out a few vaguely appreciative sounds as she twirls in a hallway mirror.

She does look mature. Beautiful. _Gorgeous._

For whom? For Fedor. And that realization is complete with the mental image of the expression that Marina’s son is going to have when Tessa will appear in front of him.

Scott wants to throw his soda can at the douchebag’s head immediately, but he has to tide himself over with doing it in his mind, again. On the way there, he keeps praying and wishing and hoping for a miracle of the variation ‘Fedor contracted a horrible disease and will never appear to bother Tessa and Scott again in his life.’

The miracle doesn’t happen, because Fedor is smack-dab in the middle of the party when they arrive, and he immediately zeroes in on Tessa. She had flown over to the small group of the girls with whom she was on friendly terms, and Scott is left near Charlie and Chiddy, giving them incredibly eloquent monosyllabic replies while monitoring his sidekick. Fedor, true to his reputation, proceeds from words to actions, with touches of Tessa’s arms and even bare shoulders that are so covertly casual, Scott wants to puke, even though he has consumed barely any alcohol yet. His hand squeezes the red cup of...whatever as he watches the guy. No one touches _his_ brilliant sidekick, but he’s not going to interfere and cause a scene. Yet. For now, he shoots eye daggers at Fedor, but they clank against his armor of arrogance and serve no purpose. Tessa giggles like every word she hears from the guy is witty and fascinating (which Scott heavily doubts).

Unexpectedly, Meryl Davis waltzes in and glares the same daggers at his brilliant sidekick. Tessa pales, her shoulders sag, and she appears hurt, even as Scott is relieved. He can’t say he likes the sight of Tessa’s sadness, but if Meryl is able to direct the predator’s attention elsewhere, then, oh well.

And then Tessa’s eyes turn cold and pointedly indifferent. And her spine straightens.

Uh oh.

Scott knows this stance, as he knows the two occasions when Tessa displays it.

One, before competitions. Two, when Fedor stops giving her attention and she wants it back. The first one is admirable, but the second is almost heartbreaking. Scott does make a decision about intervening, but then the guys whisk him away to the pool table and he loses track of her. The last thing he does see and hear is her loud, fake laughter back in her circle of girls, her eyes glittering with anger and determination. She flounces over to him, right before he’s dragged away by his boisterous friends.

“Scott?” The question is deliberately coy, and so is her touch of his bicep. “Don’t go home without me, will you?”

He’s so stunned when she kisses him on the cheek, that he weakly lets Chiddy and Charlie wheedle him into their company without protest.

 

Scott tears himself away from the incessant games and rowdy fun with the guys after a while. He has been keeping a clear head on purpose, so he can get his sidekick safely back home (and, if needed, offer her a shoulder to cry on about the douche, though he hopes not, as her tears hurt him to witness). He’s not too eager, though, to see the results of the game called ‘Let Fedor be jealous of her and Scott and intrigued by her independence.’ Now, if he could only _find_ those results.

The Results have taken up a spot on the nearest couch, wobbling a bit in their tall instruments of seduction and torture. The heels must hurt like hell at this point, and the Results kick them off, massaging their feet. Scott approaches, intending to inform the Results that he wants to go home now, when his eyes are drawn to the slender, toned bare legs, and his information gets stuck in his throat.

Finally, his brilliant ice dancing sidekick agrees for Scott to take her home, and, giggling with increasing drunkenness, takes his offered arm and stumbles out and towards the car. On the small flight of stairs from the house to the sidewalk, the way that the sidekick wiggles makes her lose a heel, and Scott has no choice but to put it back on her foot. Getting into the car makes the sidekick’s heel lose its place of residence again, and it’s promptly returned.

Upon arrival, Scott coaxes his sidekick out of the car, but her combination of waking up from a short, alcohol-induced nap on the way and her tiredness means no other thing but that she loses the long-suffered metaphorical glass slipper for a third time. Of course, all of this is accompanied by giggles, flustered apologies, and very incoherent but endearing monologues, about everything: how tired she is, how great and sweet and an awesome friend Scott is, and how much she _loooooves_ him.

“Cinderella, my ass,” Scott grumbles, and - make note of it! - bends down a knee to retrieve the fallen footwear and slip it back on his sidekick. And words can’t be taken back, as per common knowledge, so the spell is cast. The magic object fulfills its magic function, akin to that of an ice skate working magic during their routines. Third time’s the charm, and our boy-next-door who’s a prince for an evening will have no choice but to walk beside the owner of the high heel for the rest of their lives.

 

But nothing is better and more wonderful than to be around a modern Cinderella, with her snazzy outfit and fancy makeup off, in pajamas and with tousled hair, nodding off beside her inadvertent prince on a couch in a city.

“G’night, Scott. Love you,” whispers the sleepiest, sweetest voice in the world, somewhere near his ear, right into his heart.

“Night, and love you too, kiddo,” he answers, cradling her more comfortably. He’s so glad that she chose to go home with him, to have guilty-pleasure pizza and watch trashy TV; he’s just quietly joyful that he keeps choosing him, over and over. He vows to be worthy of that choice, as they grow together as partners, sidekicks, and everything else they might become.

Scott knows that he and Tess will live happily ever after, one way or another. There’s quite simply no other choice.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Lol I really don't know what this is, other than it popped into my head and I wrote it in an hour. Hope it was worth your while to read :)


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